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since you’re doing this with me there are some things you need to know about Elise that I didn’t tell you and your mom at the diner. Before she straightened out her life, she went to a dark place . . .”

Liam paused long enough for Anita to ask, “What do you mean?”

“She was arrested on charges of prostitution and possession.”

“That sounds about right,” Anita said in a matter-of-fact way. “My brother thought that might happen.” She gently touched the scar on her cheek. “He wanted to make sure I didn’t do the same thing.”

Liam wasn’t sure which brother she meant, but the inference was as unmistakable as it was horrifying.

They drove for a while in silence.

“We should talk to Dale,” Anita eventually said. “If that’s the kind of life she was living, he’s probably our best bet.”

Liam nodded. “Okay.” He expected her to give him more than a name. When she didn’t, he asked, “Who’s Dale?”

“Back in those days he managed some girls who worked the Streeterville neighborhood. He and Elise spent a lot of time down at Brewskis. It’s a bar a couple of miles from here. That’s the kind of stellar company she kept in those days.”

Managed some girls. Liam found that to be a charitable description for a pimp and figured Dale had to be the one who had pushed Elise into prostitution. Ever since he’d set out to find her killer, he had known he might come face-to-face with that man.

Anita parked along the curb in front of Brewskis. The bar was on the corner of Madison and Wilcox. The front door faced the intersection. The side they were on backed up to a smoke shop. The only way you could tell where one ended and the other began was by looking in the windows. Those belonging to the bar were tinted so dark Liam could hardly see anything inside. The ones belonging to the smoke shop featured a display of bongs and e-cigarettes.

“He still hangs out here?” Liam asked, as he got out of the car.

“He owns the place now,” Anita said.

Brewskis was almost as dark inside as it had looked through the windows. The bar jutted out from the back wall and took up a lot of the floor space. It was surrounded on three sides by stools. Booths lined the walls with windows and neon signs adorned the rest. A few scattered customers drank their lunch. “Route 66,” performed by The Rolling Stones, was playing over the speakers.

Anita directed Liam’s attention to a man behind the bar. He was crouched down, distracted, his head barely visible. “That’s him.” She walked up to the bar and Liam followed. When they got closer, they saw Dale fiddling with a keg.

“Hey,” she said.

Without standing up, Dale’s focus shifted from the keg to Anita. His lips parted into a reptilian smile. “How’s it going, beautiful?”

Anita did not smile back. “We wanted to ask you about Elise.”

His gaze cut to Liam. “Who’s this?”

“He was her boyfriend.”

Dale stood up, wiped his hands on his jeans. “She’s a real bitch, you know.”

“I’m not—”

“She’s dead,” Anita interrupted.

“Really?” Dale asked.

“Really.” Liam leaned awkwardly back, settling onto one of the stools. The man in front of him was skinny and bald and didn’t look like much of a pimp. But he had no reason to doubt Anita, so Liam pressed forward with his question. “You mind telling us if she ever worked for you?”

“Here? No. I only bought this place a few years ago. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Elise.”

“Not here.”

Dale’s brow furrowed. Then his eyes lit up and his reptilian smile was back. “Oh, you mean . . .”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Liam said, sickened by the thoughts he imagined going through Dale’s mind.

“Sadly, no. She thought she was too good for me. Didn’t mind coming around here to let me buy her drinks, but work for me?” He frowned, shook his head. “No way. She wasn’t having it. Believe me, I asked.”

“Are you sure?” Anita said. “She was busted for prostitution.”

“No shit,” Dale replied, in a way that suggested he already knew.

“Who was she working for?” Liam said.

“She didn’t work for anyone. The prostitution charge was bullshit. She was just getting out there on the street and hustling her way into guys’ cars to rip them off. Who are they going to tell, right? I don’t know how long she was up to that crap. Once I found out, I told her to knock it off or I’d bust her up proper and then nobody’d be asking to go balls deep. She was messing with my cash flow, you know? People didn’t want to stop.”

Liam thought about what Anita’s brother must have done to her, how his reason had been different, but his goal the same. His disgust with Dale grew into anger. “Did you do something to Elise?”

“No way. I liked Elise. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I had to make good on my threat. I just wanted to give her a good scare. Apparently it worked, too, because after we had our little chat, I never saw her again. Why are you asking about her, anyway?”

Liam looked at Anita and she nodded, as if to say it was okay to tell Dale. “Elise was murdered.”

“And you two are trying to figure out who killed her?” Dale almost laughed. “What are you, like, Cagney and Lacey?”

Liam ignored the sarcasm. As tempting as it might be to reach across the bar, grab Dale by the shirt, and throw a hard right into his jaw, that wasn’t who he was. Sometimes he wished he could be that person, but wishing wouldn’t make it so, and besides, he wasn’t done asking questions.

Anita did not have the same problem. She unzipped her leather jacket to reveal a Beretta strapped underneath her shoulder. “Hey, dickwad, knock it off. This guy’s been through a lot and the last thing he needs to deal with is your BS.”

Dale’s amusement subsided a little, but not entirely.

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